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Our rocket ship
is coming in angled and fast, cutting through the atmosphere at
super-sonic speeds on a collision course with downtown PDX. I could swear
I just saw a caped corn dog go past the porthole..? A strange music is
playing somewhere – I can’t hear it, I can feel it resonating up the base
of my skull. Shout the anthem of the rock gods! The pilot has pulled a
gun from her bag and has been staring at the side of my head for at least
thirty seconds; were I a lesser man I might melt away. I think our robot
has sabotaged the engines. I can see him talking to himself (in robo-bleeps),
fingering a cord of frayed wires near the emergency exit. The pilot
thinks I’m a spy. She’s had sex in a Camaro and I’m not about to debate
her. I feel a sudden, immense pressure and turn to see our robot jump out
of the hatch and into the sky. Damn.

- Booboo Journal Entry #223, Date Unknown

Films and video featuring BVT ...

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